The Funeral
by lishyu
Summary: 5 years ago, at Azalea's funeral = or at least, my version of it. Short piece. Based more on the novel than the animation though.


Disclaimer: I don't own 'Sorcerous stabber Orphen', or any of the characters in it. I don't make any profit from this either, so please don't sue me. This is based primarily on the novel, not the animation. Spellings and such are direct translations from the original. This is NOT what actually happened at the funeral, word for word, but just my way of interpreting 'killiranshelo-got-angry-at-azalea's-funeral-and-turned- orphen'. Enjoy. :)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The funeral continued.  
  
  
  
The boy stared into the rain. Open, but not seeing.  
  
People sobbed. Both the ignorant and the wizen, clad in their black fineries and grieving for their lost student. Friend. Prize.  
  
  
  
Killiranshelo trembled with rage.  
  
  
  
"She was a wonderful student. One of my best pupils, if not the best. She was always shining, confident..."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
How dare they talk of her in past tense.  
  
How dare they engrave her name deep into a piece of marble and declare her gone.  
  
How dare they erase her from existence, his memory, his life, as if they had the right...!  
  
  
  
  
  
"She will be missed."  
  
Dark sparks flew in Killiranshelo's eyes. Fists clenched, he lunged forward. In the back of his head he vaguely noted Hartia's surprised gasp, but wrenched away from his friend's grasp, into the clearing.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Lower the coffin."  
  
Childman watched as two men gathered around either end of the coffin. Mixed feelings swirled through his heart, but none were shown.  
  
He was afraid that if one escaped, all others would rush out like a dam broken. He couldn't allow that.  
  
That was why he stood here. Dutiful, Obliging, Emotionless.  
  
  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
  
  
A scream rang clear through the crowd, dampening the fake sobs.  
  
Killiranshelo marched through the silence, shoving angrily past the mob.  
  
  
  
Hushed whispers rippled around him. The Successor of Razor Edge. The prized doll of the Tower. They expected that he would weep for his lost 'sister'. They expected him to, maybe, make a passionate speech on death and grief, a song maybe, or even a new spell to honor the dead.  
  
They did not expect him to raise his hand and curse out a destructive spell - crushing the coffin open.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
empty.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Silence followed. The wooden crate's gaping open mouth collected silent pools of gray rain.  
  
Killiranshelo spat every word out.  
  
"Azalea. Is. Not. Dead."  
  
One of his teachers made a simple gesture. "Yet."  
  
"She is alive!" The orphaned boy shrieked. "And she will stay alive! And she will come back to her true form! Then she will come back to me! She will come back! She will..."  
  
The boy sobbed. But his teachers. His colleagues. His friends.  
  
None made a move.  
  
  
  
The rain thundered down between them. His tears mingled with the icy rain.  
  
He willed someone - anyone to agree. To help him save his sister. To break the silence.  
  
No one said a word.  
  
  
  
Killiranshelo shuddered as if he'd been punched. Hard.  
  
  
  
  
  
".....Childman?.......Master...Don't you agree?"  
  
The boy stumbled, looking wildly around the clearing.  
  
".....Tish?....Portea........please...! You can't possibly want Azalea dead...! Komikron...........Korgon...!"  
  
Killiranshelo's trembling eyes searched frantically around for a friend. Any friend.  
  
"...Hartia...!"  
  
"...." His best friend looked away, bitterly biting his lip.  
  
  
  
  
  
The rain fell.  
  
  
  
  
  
".....ha..." Tears welled, but he didn't look away.  
  
Laughter welled up inside him, tears threatening to overflow - but he stood proud in that soaking funeral ground.  
  
  
  
  
  
Alone.  
  
  
  
  
  
Rain dripped from his trembling fingers.  
  
  
  
  
  
"...my sister..."  
  
Dark eyes blazed around the mob.  
  
"...is alive."  
  
The rain was deafening.  
  
  
  
  
  
"You therefore cannot bury her. Let me give you something else to bury instead though."  
  
He gritted on his every word.  
  
"You. Can bury 'Killiranshelo'. The name, the title, everything."  
  
He laughed a little there, just for the spite of it.  
  
"Just as you've buried Azalea."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Words dripped with venom - for those who've murdered his sister, family, everything.  
  
"Killiranshelo will gladly die for Azalea."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Unable to stand it, Hartia extended out a hand at his hysteric friend.  
  
"Ki-"  
  
"Don't call me that!" Violently hitting the hand away, the boy screamed bloody murder.  
  
- I miss you Azalea.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Killiranshelo is Dead! I, am Orphen! An orphan, with Nobody, nobody but my sister-!!!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Had he the strength, he would have collapsed among these strangers right there and cried for all it was worth.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Killiranshelo choked out his last words.  
  
"Azalea is everything I need."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"...and I will get her back."  
  
Orphen struggled up, and left.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
---- 


End file.
